


Inked

by goldywan



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gaster Sans / Reader, Inspired By Undertale, M/M, My Contribution to Fanfic-sin, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Slow Burn, The AU in which Gaster Sans is a hot tattoo artist, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, tattoo artist - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2019-11-18 08:12:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18116816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldywan/pseuds/goldywan
Summary: "Um..." you looked away for a moment, unsure of how to respond to his question. You definitely did have an idea in mind for the type of design you wanted to get, but upon knowing that he would be the one doing the handiwork, the words spilled out like a guilty admission."I kind of wanted, er... b-bones."His eyes widen for a moment and golden pupils flash brighter. Then, the corners of his mouth tuck upwards at the corners in a bemused expression. "Well in that case, I'm your skeleton, doll."





	1. Radius + Ulna

**Author's Note:**

> I've been perusing the archives of Undertale-related everything for quite a while now and a story is itching to come out of my fingertips. Here's my first foray into the unknown, glorious, sinful world of skeletal relationships. 
> 
> Peace, love, and boners xoxo goldy

"Maybe this was a bad idea." You fidgeted again with the collar of your shirt and walked around the corner once again towards the entrance of the shop. You'd decided on this place months ago after intently reading up and calling around and looking at all the portfolios of tattoo shops (twice!) in the area before _finally_ settling. It was going to be an early present for yourself after your white coat ceremony at veterinary school, you'd decided, and after three of your friends who'd agreed to get them with you had flaked in the weeks prior, you wondered if there was even a point to getting one anymore.

"Aren't tattoos for times of camaraderie? Or brazenness and drunken stupidity?" You wondered aloud as you turned on your heel away from the entrance for the umpteenth time. "Does anyone ever get a tattoo alone?" You stare at the ground knowing full well that people--good, respectable people!--get tattoos alone, and realize that you'll end up standing up Lilly, your tattoo artist, if you hesitate any longer. Taking in a deep breath, you twirl around one last time and walk towards the door, pulling it open and stepping inside.

The inside of the shop is very clean and nicely decorated: minimalist designs, a tiled floor, and the buzz of pens are the first impressions of the interior. A handsome man with short silver hair stands at the front counter and greets you courteously. "Hello there and welcome to Echo Tats, are you here for an appointment?"

He nods as you tell him your name and your time slot with Lilly and his face falls slightly. "Oh, I'm very sorry Miss ___ but Lilly had an emergency just this morning and it looks like she won't be able to be back for the rest of this week. We're very sorry for the inconvenience and not being able to contact you earlier today to let you know."

"I hope it wasn't anything serious. Is she alright?"

"Yes, she seems to be fine, but it sounds like it was a family emergency. Again, we're very sorry about the inconvenience." You didn't know what to name the emotion welling up inside of you. Disappointment? Relief? Sadness? Upon making sure that it wasn't clear when Lilly would be back and taking customers again, you sighed and thanked the front desk manager, before he mentioned: "We do have one artist who's available right now for a consultation, if you're willing. He just joined the team recently so we don't have any of his pieces uploaded on the website yet, but if you're interested I can get him from the back and you can look at some of his work."

 _No harm in taking a peek,_ you reasoned. You'd already spent this much time in the shop it felt like sunk cost to turn around and go home. "Sure," you replied. The man smiled. "I'll go get him right now and he can take you to the back. He goes by G." And with that, the man slipped back into the shop to leave you momentarily with your thoughts and elevated heart rate.

 _G? So it's a dude artist..._ The idea of male hands pressed against your naked skin with a sharp metal pen pricking into your side no doubt made you a bit jittery, but you found yourself more intrigued than repelled by the concept. _Great, and now I've started to romanticize a person I haven't even met yet,_ you frown. If you don't like his style you can always respectfully decline, you think. 

"Miss ____," you hear your name again and look up to see the nice silver haired man. With a skeleton standing next to him.  
He's dressed in a pale cream turtleneck sweater and pressed grey jeans. His eyes glow a bright goldenrod yellow, and the cracks on his skull extending from his right and left eyes leave you feeling like you should be scared, but instead feel... a suspicious twinge of attraction?  _Oh. This is bad. This is very--_

"This is G," the shopkeeper says as the tall monster steps around him and up until the two of you are face to face.

"Pleasure to meet you," he says, voice between a rasp and a murmur, and extends a black gloved hand.  
"Th-the pleasure's all mine," you answer reflexively, and reach out to grasp it, fingers feeling surprisingly less bony than expected.  
"I hear you had an appointment with Lilly. Thanks for taking a chance on me." He lets go of your hand and gestures towards the back. "The name's G, as Nate's mentioned. Follow me?"

You fall in behind G as he strides through the rest of the tattoo shop and tucks into a small side room for the consultation, holding the door open for you. You step inside, not missing the faint scent of cigarettes on his sweater. Although the room was small, it was neat and well lit, lined with all sorts of sketches and designs on the walls and (you guessed) in the various sketchbooks and journals on the shelves.

"Please take a seat, Miss ____." G gestured with a gloved hand at one of the plush black seats in front of the desk, and he sat across from you as you settled down. "Hope you'll pardon the space, but we try to make do with every spare inch we have. So, what were we thinking of getting?" He leans forward and clasps his hands together, looking at you respectfully with half-hooded eyes.

"Um..." you look away for a moment, unsure of how to respond to his question. You'd gone through your various phases of tattoo brainstorming--both individually, with your friends, scrolling like a madwoman through hobby sites and investigating all the tags related to inking and tattoos on social media. You'd gone through the water colors, the bio-mechanical, the glow-in-the-dark, the anime, heck, even the butterfly tramp stamps! At the end of it all, you definitely did have an idea in mind for the type of design you wanted to get to pop your tattoo cherry, but upon knowing that G would be the one doing the handiwork, the words spilled out like a guilty admission.

"I kind of wanted... er... b-bones."

His eyes widen for a moment, dull yellow eyes flashing gold before being taken over by a bemused expression, the corners of his mouth tucking upwards at the corners.

"Well in that case, I'm your skeleton, doll."

"I mean, I--" you paused, looking at his face for any signs of judgment or disappointment. _Here comes another inconsiderate human who just wants to fetishize my monster appearance and plaster it all over her body._ "I've had this idea for the longest time, even before the appearance of monsters above the surface. I really don't mean to offend you or anything! If anything it's--"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, there," he interrupted, reaching over the desk to put a hand on your shoulder. You couldn't meet his eyes and instead focused on the weight of his arm and the reassuring squeeze. "If anything, it's a compliment that a... girl like you would think to even get a tat. From a monster, that is." Your eyes finally flashed up to the skeleton's face and he winked at you in response. "I was gonna be in hot water about a month ago, before this place finally decided to let me join the team. Considering how recently monsters have rocked up the human world and how slowly change happens regardless of, uh, species, I didn't know if it'd be a good idea to come up here. But considering how I get to meet sweet souls like you, much less be able to have you appreciate my art, makes me realize humans are worth my while."

You didn't know if he was flirting or being genuine or a little of both, but you didn't have time to dwell before he pulled up a sketch on the electronic tablet and placed it before you. Your eyes widened at the image. "What do you think about this one?"

It was a monochrome image of a pair of skeletal arms, done in meticulous detail. The line width, shading, and variation in the sketchy consistency of the strokes made it all the more lovely but curiously, there were perfectly shaped cookie-cutter holes in the center of where the palms would be. You stared, entranced at the gaps in the palms. "This one's a bit of a work in progress as I want to work in some flowers entwined in the arms, but--"

"I love it." The words came out of your mouth before you could catch yourself. "How much would it be?"

He chuckles and you wonder if it was because of your straightforwardness before you realize his expression is one of sheepishness. He leans back and scratches his head, looking away from you. You wonder if you're imagining the dusting of gold across his cheeks. "Well, I'd have to finish up the design first. Considering how I'm taking over what would be Lilly's, I think you'll get comp'ed a portion of the price, but the rest just depends on how large you'd like the design to be and how quick I am in getting it done. And I, uh, I'm flattered. Thank you."

You spend the rest of the conversation working out details of scheduling, estimated cost of the sessions, and getting an overall feel for each others' aesthetics and preferences. He shows you a plethora of other sketches he's been working on, and you quickly identify the themes he tends to come back to--monochrome palettes of skeletons of all types of creatures, geometric designs, ink splotches, all interwoven with beautiful blue flowers.

"Ah, they're from my home. You know, Underground." He explains. "That's why I almost thought it was fate when I came up here and applied to this place, Echo Tats. These here are called Echo Flowers. And what really drove me to learn this craft was the idea that one day I'd be able to recreate their beauty on the human body."

"They're beautiful." You reach out to touch the frozen image on the tablet. "I'm sure a projection like this doesn't do them justice, huh?" He shakes his head. "It's so crazy how less than a year ago none of us knew about the existence of an entirely separate dimension, with individuals entirely distinct from humans. And yet you knew about us." You chuckle in disbelief. "I almost feel like I should apologize but it's not exactly something I can say sorry for, is it?"

"Hey," he says, clicking off the tablet and putting it aside. "There are just as many monsters that had no idea humans were real either. And to be fair, you all were also the stuff of nightmares."

"No way..." You try to catch his gaze but he doesn't meet it. "We're considered scary? No way!" You laugh but he doesn't reciprocate, and you quickly cut yourself off.

"I mean... there was a reason why the two realms were separated in the first place, but we're back together because of the good and not the bad. So. That's all that really matters to me." He shrugs and gives half-hearted grin.

Feeling a little rude from the earlier laughter, you add: "I'm not a monster myself, but I can imagine it's probably been hard these past few months. Your work is beautiful, G, and I'm really happy that things turned out this way today. If I ever say or do something that's insensitive, please let me know, okay?" He shifts his focus to look at you with an intensity that shoots a shiver from the top of your scalp to the tips of your toes, and then he's standing up all too soon and reaching out his hand for another handshake. A professional, courteous handshake.

"There's nothing you can do that's insensitive, Miss___, trust me. I'll be seeing you this weekend, then. Looking forward to working with you."

G steps out and walks you back to the front desk, and after you confirm the next appointment time, follows you to the main door and opens it for you, smiling as you step outside into the warm night. You nod back to him and murmur a good night.

As you walk back to your car, you feel as if something is lighting up in your chest.

You're overtaken by a sense of determination.

 


	2. Humerus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which you talk to your roommate about G and they tease you for wanting other letters from him.

"Oof," you groan as you collapse onto the living room couch. With spring break coming up quickly in the semester, the assignments and tests were piling up to give you a bad time before you could taste sweet freedom. The long day of classes was draining in itself, but the thought of being able to treat little (and big) animals of all shapes and sizes in the future was just enough to keep the flame burning. "Just gotta make it to Saturday," you sigh to yourself as you pull yourself back up and shuffle into the kitchen for something to snack on before hitting the books again.

A door opens and closes and you hear someone making their way down the hall in your direction. Glancing over your shoulder from the burrito you just popped into the microwave, you see it's your roommate Evie. She looks a bit disheveled, wavy black hair tied up in a loose top knot over her head, covering her mouth mid-yawn.

"Oh hey ___, did you just get back?" She mumbles, walking past you to open the fridge only to close it, and open the freezer above to close that as well. "How's your day been?" She rubs her eyes and smiles. "Sorry I look like a mess. Had to cover the late shift last night." She yawns again and falls over onto the couch you were just resting in.

"Yeah, I just got back. And you should get some more rest," you chuckle as you lean against the counter, waiting for your snack to finish warming up. Evie was a couple years younger than you and taking an additional EMS course alongside all her other classes. Her recent late night rotations involved situations from birthing children to patching up trauma patients and left you wondering if she ever had time to catch up on sleep. "Want me to make you anything?" You quip as the microwave beeps and you grab your food, piping hot, and try to pick it up with your hands.

"Nah, I'm good. Need to wake up for real and finish up a problem set due before the end of the day tomorrow," she says. You give up trying to eat the burrito immediately and reach for a fork to cut it into pieces and let it cool. "How was your consultation on Tuesday?"

"Oh. That." It had been a couple days since your trip to Echo Tats and you'd successfully (kind of) put the thought of the golden-eyed bone boy out of your mind until now. "It was good. I actually wasn't able to see the person I booked an appointment with but I ended up looking through the portfolio of a new hire and really liked his stuff, so went with him instead. We have another session for this Saturday."

"Oooh, and I thought you'd specifically looked for female artists?" She muses, sitting up and crossing her legs, looking at you expectantly. You hesitate, knowing that the two of you had had a conversation about this. You knew that artistry was gender-blind and the professionalism of any respectable tattoo shop should be enough to assuage any anxiety, yet you still had some reservations about the male touch on places of your body that weren't normally exposed in public.  
"Yeah... I did do that, huh." You grin sheepishly.  
"So?" She cocks her head inquisitively. "What made you change your mind?"

You replay the way G shakes your hand and the texture of his black glove against your bare palm. The way he smiles when you admit to wanting a skeleton to tattoo bones onto your body. The glimmer in his eyes when he explains his work and his flowers and the way you knew that you were impossibly smitten the moment he introduced himself. _God, I should be past the phase when I'm falling for looks and falling for character instead._ Alas, you's a shallow one. Might as well own up to it. 

"He... really had beautiful pieces. It was obvious he was talented. And... not to point this out in a weird way but I thought it'd be really cool to get a tattoo from a monster and maybe make a friend in the process?" The last part came out in a rush.  
You watched her mouth form a small 'o' in surprise. "____. No. Seriously?! That's so cool! I didn't think monsters would make it to this college town so quickly. Introduce me next time, yeah? When did you say you were having your next session--Saturday?"  
"Y-yeah."  
"If yours ends up looking sick then I might go and get one from them too. Echo Tats, right? What's the name of your dude?"

You hesitate, feeling a twinge of-- _of what? Possessiveness?_ As if G would only be able to give you tattoos. "His name's G. He's a skeleton."  
"And with the way you're trying not the smile I imagine _someone's_ got the hots for him?" Evie giggles mischievously and wiggles her toes. Any discomfort you might have had dissipates with her teasing.  
"I guess I kinda do," you groan, burying your face in your hands. " _Ugh,_ Evie, he was _so **hot.**_ I don't know how I managed to keep myself together through that consult. I haven't felt that amount of butterflies in a really long time." Like, since high school freshman year long time.

You glance over from the cup you're filling with water and notice a strange expression on Evie's face. Her large eyes look almost as if they're going to bug out of their sockets, and finally she says: "Just tell him you want him to BONE ya!" She cackles, not being able to hold in the pun any longer.  
"Evie!" You hiss, starting to laugh with her, but your roommate only starts to laugh harder.  
"___ wants the D from G!!" She squeals, eyes alight with delight. "Ah, okay, okay, but in all seriousness, I'm really glad you were able to find an artist with a style you liked.

"Want to go out on Saturday after your date? We can celebrate making it halfway through the semester and you getting your tattoo cherry popped," Evie grins. I'll invite some friends over and we can do a chill pre-game here before heading out, if you're down." She winks. "I know it's been a while since you been out, right?"

You laugh through your nose as you drink out of your cup. "Ain't that the truth." You walk over and sit down at the dinner table as she continues to lounge on the couch. "And it'll be a date with you, but not with him." You briefly entertain the image of G sitting at a bar and taking a drag from a cigarette as he swirls an amber glass with his other hand, but then Evie hoots, and gestures as if she were downing shots, tongue sticking out and all. You snort and playfully whack her on the head.

You both knew that wasn't either of your way of partying, but you were really thankful in that moment for having such a great roommate to let loose with. Asking for a random assignment was definitely nerve-wracking at the beginning of the year, but you soon realized that having someone to come home to who knew nothing related to veterinary medicine was a refreshing breath of air. Being a couple years younger and still in undergrad also made a world of difference. _Grad school immediately ages you,_ you think to yourself wistfully as you stand up and collect your study materials to head back to your room.

"We'll iron out the details later, yeah?" You call behind you as you walk away from the living room.

"You got it chica! And feel free to invite him if you're bold enough!"

"Yeah, yeah," you say dismissively and shut the door.


	3. Scapula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which you have your first session together and learn some things about each other. 
> 
> If you'd like a visual for what I picture G's art to look like, check the notes at the end of the chapter!

"Good morning, sunshine. Thanks for agreeing to meet up so early." G greets you at the main counter on Saturday with a wider smile than when you first met him. He's sporting a charcoal v-neck sweater today with dark pants to match. Your heart flutters with the word _sunshine_ but you forcefully swallow the butterfly and give him your most earnest smile.

"No, thank _you_ for getting up on a Saturday just to finish ironing out all the details." The anticipation for today got you out of bed without need for coffee. _The thought of his face was enough,_ a voice in your head snickers. You can't exactly disagree.

"I hope it's up to your expectations, doll." He walks out from behind the counter and gestures again to the back. "Shall we?"

* * *

The two of you step into the small consultation room you went into on your first visit, and he shuffles through some papers before pulling out some printouts of the skeletal arms and laying them out carefully on the desk. It holds the same centerpiece, but they're now interwoven with gorgeous flowers of all kinds, and their hand position has changed to look like they're cupping something. What they're cupping though, still hasn't been drawn. You peer over them and can't help but use your fingers to trace over the patterns--leaves and vines and petals wrapping around the white bones.

"I wanted to leave that to you," he explains as your fingers trace and linger around the design. "I was thinking the piece could go with or without something in those palms, but if not I have some alternative hand positions also sketched out." You feel him standing behind you and pick up a faint smell of pine and cigarettes. Your pulse quickens and you try not to be hypersensitive of his movements.

"I like the way it is right now. Maybe leave the hands empty for the time being," you decide, and take a seat in the chair as per last time. G rounds the table to the other side of the desk and begins to print out some other paperwork.

"The way this will work is that I'm going to lay a stencil down, and then depending on the color and shading and size, we could get it all done potentially today, if not in a couple sessions."  
You watch his as eyes dart across the computer monitor, he clicks a few times with the mouse, and reaches to grab the forms as they come out of a printer behind him."How do you determine the cut off for a day's worth of work?"  
"I usually do two hours max per session, shorter if we're gonna do anything in the torso area." He glances at you as he leafs through the sheets.  
"At least that's what Nate and the others told me." He leafs through them again.  
"For humans, I mean." He fiddles with the corners of the papers as silence settles and you process the meaning of what the tattoo artist just confessed to.

"You mean, I'm your first human customer?"

G leans back and makes an expression as if he were weighing the truth of that statement.

"That... is also why we're probably gonna comp ya a little more than usual." His brow furrows a little bit. Before you can interject, he continues: "But I doubt human flesh is terribly different than some monsters I've tatted. 'Specially mermen and mermaids. The, uh, non-scaled part, mind you." He's smiling as if he knows he's going to get away with not telling you his lack of experience with _Homo sapiens._  
Not letting the comment about mer-people distract you, you persist: "And when were you going to let me know about this?" You deadpan. "G. I'm offended." _You're excited.  
_"Hey, in all seriousness." He places the papers on the desk in front of you. "I'm competent. And when's the next time you're gonna be able to say a skeleton put some bones in ya?"

He's grinning at this point and your heart leaps again with the way the gold dances inside his eyes. You look at each other for just a beat too long before he continues.  
"You still sure about where you want this to go? I know we talked about it last time but I wanna make sure with ya. It's pretty ambitious for a first tattoo."

Deep down you know exactly what you want, but you're a little nervous to commit. What if you regret it? What if G is actually an awful artist and does a bad job? You look up at him looking at you and decide that it's worth the risk. You've never seen anyone else with a style like his and you're in a mood to go big or go bigger. The emotion you felt welling up inside you from the other night makes an appearance again and before you know it, it's spilling up out of your heart and into your voice. Determination. With a sprinkle of recklessness.

* * *

 

You take a step into the private room and hear G step in behind you and close the door. "Remember, we can stop anytime you'd like and take a break. It sometimes helps to bring some Advil before coming to sessions, but again, I don't wanna make getting a tattoo sound too terrifying before we've even started."

"I have a pretty high pain tolerance." You look at him confidently. "And I trust you to not mess things up. One shot canvas, yeah?"  
He focuses on you again with that intense smolder, golden pupils shrinking into the darkness of his eye sockets, and you have to look away.  
"Yeah," he finally rasps. "One shot canvas."

"Go ahead and remove your top and unclasp your bra and get situated on the chair. There are some pasties here by the door for your use if you'd like, otherwise I'll back back in a few minutes." He nods quickly and steps out of the room. You watch him close the door and take a deep breath. "This is a lot less sexier than what I made it out to be," you mutter to yourself as you get on your side in the chair, exposing the entirely of the right side of your rib cage and obliques. Your heart is beating a lot faster than you'd like it to be, so you start to concentrate on your breathing and continue to do so until you hear a light tapping on the door. "Miss ___? May I come in now?"

"Yes," you call out, and the door opens and closes quickly as G steps back into the room. He's folded up the sleeves of his sweater neatly to expose the pale white bones of his forearms, and has changed out his gloves for the standard latex blue used in medical procedures. He has with him a large sheet of paper with the stencil design printed out. After prepping the area with alcohol, he methodically lays it on your side, pressing down firmer when he's more sure about placement. He gentle coaxes your arms around in a way that still keeps everything covered and, like taking off a temporary tattoo backing, he pulls away the stencil paper and sets it aside.

He then pulls up a small backless rolling chair and preps the tools at his station before turning to you. There's an air of professionalism about him that, if he hadn't mentioned it, wouldn't let on that you were his first human client. You watch, fascinated, as he finishes setting them up and placing them neatly in order.

"Any last words?" He quips, picking up the pen and turning it on, dipping it in the black shiny ink.

"Do me like one of your French girls," you laugh, and he pauses, eyes wide with surprise. _Oh. He doesn't get the reference._ "It's from a movie," you quickly add. "Titanic. 'Do you trust me?"' G continues to blankly stare and you shake your head in defeat. It's not like you can fling your arms wide to recreate the scene at the moment. He chuckles as you sigh and feel a firm, steady grip against your hip and a "Here we go, Miss ___" before the pressure and vibration of the tattoo pen make their first mark against your skin.

 _Ow,_ you think to yourself, biting your lip and trying to keep your muscles from tensing. Between the bite of the pen tip and the way G's leaning in so close, it's hard to ignore the stimulus overload.

"Just ___ is fine, G," you grit out. "Feels weird that you have to be so formal with me when I'm not the same with you." You can't exactly look down and catch his expression, but you swear he's smirking. 

A bit of time passes in silence as you try to adjust yourself to this prodding sensation. You wonder if G is also trying to get a feel for the way human skin takes on ink.

"Hey G, can I ask you a question?"  
"Shoot, doll."  
"Can you really use magic?"  
The skeleton chuckles low and replies, "Kind of. Except we don't call it magic. It's more or less just our soul energy."

"Soul?"  
"Yeah. Don't you all have souls?"

You think of the various religions on the planet and their takes on the afterlife, ideas of heaven and hell, and the blessing (or curse) of having a mortal body.

"Kind of. Except they're considered intangible and potentially recycled."  
This time it was his turn to question. "Recycled?"  
"Mm-hmm. This thing called--" you pause and do your best not to wince as he goes over a particularly tender spot-- "reincarnation. The idea that a soul goes to a different body following death without---memories of its previous life."

G doesn't answer immediately and the buzzing sound of the pen continues. The area he's worked down to now isn't quite as sensitive to pain but it's definitely more ticklish.

"Hm. That's kind of how the Underground worked, for a while at least. We had to repeat timelines, until one of the runs finally succeeded in getting us out from under there."  
"Does anyone remember what happens each time?"  
"...some do."

Another pause. You figure tell he's trying to keep up the conversation but also keeping the main priority--depositing ink into the deep layer of your skin--at the forefront of his concentration. It's far from comfortable but you can say you've gotten used to it now, the position and the sensation of the pen tip as it scrapes across your skin. That is, until he shifts his grip just a bit and suddenly--

" _G,_ " you breathe out headily, unable to stop yourself from squirming under his fingertips. He releases all grip immediately and turns off the pen.  
"___? You okay?" He lays down the pen and scoots closer to your face, concerned.  
You're pretty sure you're blushing a vibrant shade of pink with the way you gasped his name (sex voice was NOT supposed to make an appearance goodness gracious) And you're now trying to remain as still as possible to make up for it. _It doesn't make any difference now, idiot._ "S-sorry. I should have said something but I'm pretty ticklish right there where you put your hand just now." Your arms are still crossed firmly across your chest and you're stuck feeling incredibly incompetent. "Sorry again, I uh, it's okay. We can keep going."

"Hey, look at me." You shift gaze from the very interesting black dot on the wall to G's face. His expression holds such a tenderness that makes you want to look away just as quickly, but the way his golden eyes shimmer make you look for just a while longer. "I know it's hard. It's your first ink session and it's a big one, too. I should have made it clearer at the beginning that we stop whenever you're uncomfortable. Doesn't make you any less of a fighter, doll. Let's take a break, just for a few minutes?"

Something in the tone of his voice makes you want to do what he says. "O-okay. Yeah. That sounds good." The surface of your skin is smarting but not in the way chills still linger from the way his gloved hands felt against your body. G moves to stand up.

"I can leave the room if you want me to."  
"No!" You interject a beat too quickly. "I mean, it's okay. I'd rather have someone with me, even if it's the person giving me the tattoo." His expression softens and he falls back into a joking demeanor. "Well, I didn't know I was _that_ charming." The skeleton takes a seat again and winks an already half-closed eye. "Anything for my client. Sorry I can't offer you something to cover up with in the middle of this." His eyes stay focused on yours but you hear the intention behind his apology. _I'm admiring the view._ Before you can come up with some sort of response, he continues:

"Any plans for tonight? Hear it's spring break for the campus."

You remember Evie's invitation and feel torn between ignoring it and feeling obliged to bring it up. Finally, you admit: "I was planning on going out tonight with my roommate and some of her friends for a few drinks. It's been a while for all of us, and you're welcome to join if you'd like."

The skeleton is resting his elbows on his knees, leaning forward on the small seat. He looks like he actually considers it for a moment before saying, "Nah, I wouldn't want to mess up girls' night." He smiles and reaches again for the tattoo pen. "Thank you for the invite though."

The rest of the session goes off without a hitch, and the conversation flows smoothly between the two of you, about anything and everything from the weather to pets to favorite condiments and differences between the Underground and the human world.

Before you know it the session is coming to a close. The topic at hand is one regarding food condiments.   
"What do you mean you don't drink mustard?" G grumbles playfully as he finishes with applying some ointment carefully on your entire right midsection and giving you a detailed explanation of care for the tattoo in between now and your next appointment.

"Thanks for your business, doll," he smiles as you make your payment at the front counter.

"___. Call me ___," you reply as you finish signing off on the receipt and handing it back to him. "You can say my first name."

He reaches out to take the piece of paper. "___," he says almost carefully, like he's trying some food for the first time. It's just your name, but something about it coming from his mouth gives you goosebumps.

"I'll see you in a couple weeks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments!! I really appreciate everyone's feedback as it's my first time writing something like this (since the Quizilla days rip) and I didn't think I'd miss leisure writing so much. Thank you again uwu
> 
> I wrote G's style based off of Korean artist NADi's work.  
> Here's their instagram handle: https://www.instagram.com/tattooer_nadi/?hl=en


	4. Clavicle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which things get a little heated on your night out with friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch out for some drunk expletives and Reader's dirty dancing mind.

"Let's go----!!!" Evie slurs, draping an arm (and more or less her entire, petite frame) against you. She's a good head shorter than you are and nestles her face right between the girls. "What time is it?" She mumbles, shifting to wrap her arms around your waist from the front. Bless her stars, she's the lightest of lightweights you've ever lived with. You comb your fingers through her giant mane of hair and push it behind her shoulders tenderly, a pleasant buzz coursing through you all the while. The truth is, you aren't supposed to consume alcohol within twenty-four hours of getting inked, but you figure a couple of drinks wouldn't hurt.

"It's almost twelve, E. You sure you still wanna go--"

A sudden, violent shove from behind you leaves you stumbling out of the door with Evie in tow, and you turn your head around to the delighted whoop of, "Time for us to get _**lit**_ , bitches!!" Two other friends of Evie's saunter out behind you, the one guilty of the push sticking her tongue out rebelliously. "Hands off, Liz," you jokingly retort, furrowing your brows at the girl as she pushes her short choppy blonde hair backwards.

"Aw ___, don't have a stick up your ass. You know I love you and I'll buy you all the drinks to make up for it. Could you lock the door please?" She leans forward to smooch your cheeks with an obnoxious fish lip pucker and then turns to address the other girl. "And Angela, can you call the Uber?"  
"Not unless you pay me first, honey." The other girl stands coolly in her tall wedge booties and crosses her arms, raising a perfectly drawn eyebrow (to match her perfectly lined purple lips) at the other girl. She easily stands taller than the three of you, with pin straight hair and legs longer than eternity. You go to make sure the door's properly shut (with Evie still attached to your hip) and fiddle with the keys while quietly listening to the other two bicker. Discreetly, you pull up the app on your phone.

"You owe me for fries last time," Liz whines, reaching for the other girl's hand but fumbling, fussy in her inebriated state.  
"You owe me for staying at my place since the beginning of the semester! Why won't you to go sleep at your own place?!"  
"Angela," The pixie haired blonde has succeeded in taking both of the other's hands and pulling them behind her. Liz chuckles and leans in to whisper a little too loudly to be discreet-- "It's a lot nicer to sleep with someone who --"

"Aaaand the Uber will be here in two minutes," you cut in, smirking. The other two girls both turn their heads to look at you. Liz has a shit-eating grin, and Angela looks nonplussed. _I gotta ask Evie how these two got together again,_ you make a mental note, and try to prevent your roommate from becoming a permanent barnacle on your hip. "Evie, you sure you're okay?" She takes a deep breath and straightens up next to you, but not without taking your hand in hers. 

The gleam in her eye suggests that she's entered stage two of her inebriation. That is, from sleepy... to sleazy.  
You swallow uneasily.

"We gotta go celebrate spring break and ___ starting her first tattoo today!" She announces at full volume.  
"Shit, what?? ___, strip right now," Liz demands, striding towards you. You take a few steps back and push Evie in her direction, hoping the two rambunctious energies will collide and somehow cancel the other out. Like colliding asteroids, the two crash into a passionate embrace, and Evie begins to barnacle aggressively onto Liz instead.   
"Best of all, we gotta drink to ___ meeting a sexy tattoo artist!" Evie giggles, then hiccups, then giggles at her hiccups. "Man, we have to toast to hopefully y'all getting a chance to fu-"  
"The Uber is here," you announce, clapping a hand on her shoulder, and shuffle the Evie-Liz complex towards the car that just pulled in the driveway. Angela follows closely behind, snickering softly.

The four of you somehow pile into the car (not without some mishaps) and off you go on your drunken Cinderella night of inhibition.

* * *

 "___! Liz and I are gonna go dance. Are you going to stay with Evie?" Angela says loudly into your ear. It's already the third place of the night and yet the night is still far from over. You check your watch. _1:21_.

"I'll stay with her for a bit. We'll find you later," you reply, leaning close to Angela to make sure she hears. She still smells like flowers, even after three hours of co-mingling with sweat and flesh and musk of nightlife. Her pale skin is beaded over with a thin layer of sweat but her eyes are still alight with adrenaline, feeding on the energy that only comes with bright lights and thudding bass. She smiles widely and slips away to go back downstairs.

Some people drink and become reckless. Some become desperately sad. Some angry. Some hopelessly loving. You particularly like the last kind. Evie's gone around to practically every person she's recognized at the past few bars and kissed them on the face at least once before coming back and nursing her drink next to you. Your roommate is now plopped down comfortably next to you in the quieter loft area on the second floor of this place whose name escapes you and nursing a colorful something-or-other in a pretty pink glass. A couple attractive boys approached her throughout the night and she has their phone numbers tucked away carefully in her bra. "It's been a successful night," she cackled mischievously upon getting the third number.

There are many different types of drunks. But then there's you. You look down at your glass and swirl the contents until your mind is swirling alongside it.

At this point, your whole body is warm and buzzing. There are a good number of people at this specific joint. Loud chatter surrounds the four of you and the strobe lights illuminate dancers on the floor like overexposed photos--part of a jawbone there, a silhouette of plump lip, stray strands of hair stuck against temples with sweat. There are places on the ground where drinks have been spilled. You close your eyes and feel the rhythm of the music: the thump of the bass seems to override your own heartbeat. _It's a good DJ tonight._

You reopen your eyes to the world spinning at just the right speed, and you set your glass down and stand up, murmuring to Evie that you'll be right back. Slowly, you saunter your way to the stairs and make your way downstairs. The dance floor writhes as if one whole living creature, gyrating bodies grinding and pressing together in an asynchronous synchronicity. You never considered yourself a good dancer, but your friends always said you were the best of the group. 

You find yourself mouthing the words of the song as your body begins to twist and roll with the rhythm:

 _Dirty babe_  
_You see these shackles, baby, I'm your slave_  
_I'll let you whip me if I misbehave_  
_It's just that no one makes me feel this way_

Before you know it, you're moving your hands across your body, caressing your hips, your sides, your breasts, and thinking about a pair of golden eyes. You imagine him standing behind you in the middle of that dance floor, in the midst of the crowd of bodies with his and yours all pressed up against each other, swaying to the beat as he traces the outline of his ink across your ribs. You wonder if anyone would notice if he put his hands up your shirt and fondled your breasts while grinding you gently from behind. The thought of it makes you exhale sharply, and you blearily open your eyes. It's hard to get readjusted as the alcohol continues to work its way into your veins--the bright pulsing flashes of light make it hard to focus, and the thumping of the bass from the speakers is even louder on the dance floor than near the bar.

But there, near the upstairs balcony, you swear you see a flash of golden.

"G?" You murmur, blinking. The lights continue to strobe and the alternating black and white lights leave patches of green after images in your line of sight. Slowly, you try to elbow your way back out of the crowd to where he was. It's hard getting past the bodies blocking you on the stairway, but eventually you make it to the second floor. The loft is considerably sparser than the dance floor below. There's no monster in sight, save for a couple of anthropomorphic cats cuddling up in the corner. Walking up to Evie still lazing on the plush couches, you ask: "Did you see a skeleton just now?"

She looks up at you and smiles wide, grin plastered onto her face. "Skeleton? No," she drawls, "but I think there's a drink for you over there." Evie raises a hand and gestures vaguely to the bar. Following her direction, you glance over to where the barkeep, an androgynous smoke elemental, is expertly shaking up and crafting drinks for the steady line of patrons. Their body holds a human shape but the grey and black smoke wisps ethereally like frozen nitrogen within that outline. It notices you looking, and nods silently at a drink on the counter.

Curious, you walk over and point at the beverage. "This for me?"  
"Yes."  
You wait for a moment, but they have nothing to add. The lack of elaboration leaves you even more incredulous. "From who?"  
"Your friend. With the golden hair." 

 _Liz?_ You chuckle.  _Guess she came through with that promise after all._

"Thank you," you smile at the bartender as you pick up the glass, and gaze curiously at its contents. The liquid is pitch black, with a matching blue flower as garnish. "What's the name of the drink?" You ask as you take a sip. It tastes of limoncello and spritz, a refreshing sweetness that betrays the dark color.  _Hope it won't stain my teeth._  
The smokey barkeep pauses. "Number 17. Custom recipe."

Before you can comment on the name, an arm swings around your shoulders hard and wet lips press against your cheek.  
"D'you like the drink?" Liz slurs, kissing your face a few more times before another pair of arms peels her away from you. "I love you, ___! I'll love you forever," she passionately professes to you, all the while Angela puts a hand over her mouth. The quieter girl winks at you, twinkle in her eye enough to seduce everyone in the room, and mouths:  _I called the Uber._ You nod and go to drag your responsibility of a roommate off the couches.

* * *

_"Ughhh."_ You collapse onto your bed. After maneuvering Evie back into her room, taking her shoes off, and tucking her into bed, you'd hardly had the energy to get into the shower and wash off the sins of the night, but managed to do it anyways. You flip over and press your face into your favorite pillow, exhaling deeply as the clock on the wall ticks off the last moments of the evening.  _3:30._ Heavy eyelids finally win over the last streaks of adrenaline, and after checking your phone for a message from Angela saying she got home safely, you drift off into unconsciousness. 


	5. Sesamoids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which you dream of the skeleton man and contact a certain professor of magic.

_He takes a deep drag of the cigarette and brings his arm back down to his side, thumb twitching upwards reflexively to flick some ashes off the tip. What is that on his hands? A circle?_

_" **Fuck resets.** " You watch him exhale distractedly as the smoke plumes cloud around his face and curl upwards into the night sky. The orange street lamp illuminates his jagged profile and you can make out a clenched jawline in its shadow. Your gut twists uncomfortably._

_He throws the cigarette on the ground and stamps it out, then extends a hand and gently wraps his fingers around your wrist, pulling you towards him and threading his arms around your waist. Bony phalanges interlace and press into the small of your back, nudging you backwards until you're caught between his lanky frame and the cool brick wall. Same cream turtleneck, with no scent of smoke. Black leather jacket lined with fur. Your heart dances out an erratic rhythm as the butterflies in your gut start to feel like the wing beats of an eagle._

_The skeleton sighs and drops his head to press cool skull against the flesh of your cheek._ Who is this?  _You think hazily as he moves to press his forehead against yours. You're cognizant of the pale porcelain white of his forearms, the outline of his sternum against your chest. He's looking at you intently, but you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes. Finally, he tips his head downwards and coaxes your hesitant mouth to his.  
_

_The malleable bone lips of a skeleton monster are a texture that's difficult to describe. Velvety smooth, like the softest of bed sheets. A hand moves from your waist to cradle the back of your head gently, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. Some of the fur on his coat tickles the bottom of your chin as he pulls away slightly and exhales. His arms tighten around you and before you realize it yours are coming up to hold him just as tightly; an invisible cushion surrounding his frame keeps you from clinging onto bare bones. The two of you stand there for a while in your silent, ferocious embrace, neither loosening grip. You're shaking against his him, unspeakable emotions writhing in your chest.  
_

_He loosens his grip and suddenly both hands are cradling your face, the tips of his thumbs tenderly stroking your cheeks, the tone of his voice growing increasingly urgent." **Just this once.** " His mouth crumples into a crooked grimace as his brows knot together. Skeletons couldn't cry but the anguish in his expression was enough. " **I thought I got you.** "  His hands drop and his voice catches. " **I finally got you.** "_

_Your hands reach to hold his, squeezing them, fingertips looping into the holes in his palms. "You do got me._ "  _The voice that comes out your mouth is your own, but sounds distant. Sounds just as wrecked as his. "You got all of me."_

 _He leans in to kiss you again and_ you open your eyes to the ceiling. It takes a couple blinks to collect yourself. Disoriented, your hand comes up to your face and it comes away wet. You take a moment to process the moisture. You turn your head to see a couple pillows haphazardly strewn across the floor, presumably kicked off while you were asleep.

"What the..." you kick off the covers tangled about your legs and flip out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom. Upon flicking on the lights and looking in the mirror, you grimace. "Jeez, what kind of nightmare did I have?" Puffy red eyes and cheeks stare back at you. 

"I haven't looked this bad since... scratch that, I didn't even look this bad after I broke up with my ex," you mutter grumpily, dabbing away tears and splashing your face with cold water before fragments of the dream start to flicker back into consciousness. Without bothering to put the lid down, you take a hurried seat on the toilet to try and calm down your rapidly beating heart. Strangely, the urge to cry continues to thrum through your veins, but the emotion is completely uncalled for. You simply don't understand why your heart is _aching._

You bark out a laugh in disbelief as the first scene comes back to you. "I kissed a skeleton," you scoff. "I  _kissed._ A  _skeleton._ That looked like _G_? Seriously?" You groan. The thought of him did indeed send a trickle of heat through your body, but to dream of him, or someone in his likeness? That passionately? That was excessive. You stand back up and reach for the toothbrush, accidentally squirting an excessive amount of blue-green paste onto it as the torn expression of the skeleton continues to flash in your mind's eye. Distractedly, you shove the toothbrush into your mouth and begin to think.

" _Resets_?" You wonder aloud. G had mentioned that last time, right? Something about resets. Reincarnations. You try to rack your mind for the exact words of the conversation but you can't recall. 

Leaving the toothbrush in your mouth, you stalk back over to the nightstand, grab your phone, and tap in the details of your school, followed by "Monster Magic Professor." The search results yield some simple news reports of the first monster students accepted to the university, followed by policies and new procedures put in place since the change in admissions processes. You keep scrolling until you finally see a promising link. 

> **_Faculty & Staff - _ ** _**Dr. Alphys** _
> 
> _**Professor. Bio-Magic Researcher.** _

 You make an approving noise and tap on the link as you walk back to the bathroom to finish your morning hygiene routine.

_Time to make an appointment this week for some Q &A. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the chapter's a little short this week! I'll try to make up for it next time.


	6. Atlas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which you ask a nervous professor some questions.

You take a nervous breath, shifting your weight back and forth from the balls to the heels of your feet.

It took you a little while to finally locate the office on campus, on an obscure floor in an even more obscure corner of the biomedical research building. After a few stairwells and a couple dead ends, you were finally able to locate the office of Dr. Alphys. The website with their contact information hadn't been updated with a head shot, so you wondered what they would look like. 

 _Alphys?_ _Wonder where that name comes from._

"Guess we'll find out," you murmur to yourself as your rap a few times on the door. There's a bit of a pause before you hear the sound of papers shuffling and a couple of loud bumps from within. You feel your eyebrows rise and try to dismiss whatever look you have on your face before you wait for the hurried movements subside.

"C-come in!" A high pitched, tinny voice answers.

A little unsure, you turn the doorknob and gently open the door.

With the amount of noise that just happened, you're surprised with how clean the interior is. It's a small, cozy office with a large window facing the parking lot. The blinds are halfway open, and dancing streams of sunlight filter into the room. A couple of tall bookshelves line one side, and her desk is set up in the opposite corner, with a few photo frames set next to the desktop monitor. 

The professor herself stands next to one of the bookshelves, in the middle of placing an alarmingly large tome back on one of the higher shelves. "Oh! Oh, oh," she stammers, before collecting herself and giving it a final push with the tips of her yellow fingers. She looks flustered simply from your presence in the doorway, and her frenzied energy leaves yourself wanting to reach out to her and calm her down.

"Dr. Alphys, my name is ___. I reached out to you a couple days ago to just ask some questions about your research?"

"___. Heh. It's nice to meet you. Please take a seat." She gestures shyly at a chair that you hadn't noticed before and takes a couple of short steps to sit down behind her own desk. Much smaller than you'd anticipated, the professor resembles a short, stout yellow dinosaur monster, with spinous horns emerging from the back of her head like a multi-ceratops. A pair of thin-rimmed spectacles sits atop her wide snout, and small bright black eyes are shifted downwards. She's wearing a long white lab coat that potentially needs some hemming with the way it almost drags against the floor.

"Thank you again for agreeing to meet with me," you start, and she nods in reply, tucking her coat under her to sit. "N-no! The p-pleasure is all mine. I'll do my best to help answer a-any questions you have." She's still looking down but her mouth widens into a smile to show two adorable large front teeth and your heart warms. You scoot your chair in a little closer and lean inwards to ask your first question.

"Could you tell me a little bit about your general field of interest?"

"Well, my main realm of expertise is actually biophysics." She laces her fingers together and fidgets a little less. "The majority of time I spent underground I worked as an assistant. I was e-eventually promoted to the head scientist of the department. Um, the official title was Royal Scientist, but I'm aware royalty is not ubiquitous in human societies. " Her small beady eyes dart left and right nervously, still unwilling to look up at you.

Her words hang in the air for a moment, as you sit there stunned. "That's an amazing achievement," you comment, not knowing you were talking to what was more or less a researcher superstar. "I feel like I'm talking to a celebrity!"

"Oh, no, it's nothing like that. I really was r-riding on the shoulders of giants before me." Considering her anxious nature, it's obvious she isn't used to visitors nor talking about herself. _What a pity_ _. Recognition should go to those who deserve it._

"What kind of work did you do Underground?"

"It was, um, mainly harnessing geothermal energy with monster magic to provide an energy source for the entire monster population."

If you weren't impressed before, you're absolutely bowled over now. "That's the coolest thing I've ever heard, Dr. Alphys! Are you going to be presenting your research at any expos in the near future?"

Her cheeks darken to a bright shade of citrus orange. "That's what we hope to do. It's a bit of a, er, catch up game at the moment." She chuckles. "And because monsters and humans have distinctly different biology, it's another factor to consider."

"Better to present things that are directly relevant," you concur, nodding. As for the catch up comment, you figure that humans are far, far behind the monsters. "But still, I'd still love to hear more about your research in the underground. What are some of the difficulties you've encountered since coming to the surface?"

She perks up at this, finally lifting her head and sitting up straighter in the telltale way any researcher does when they start to get excited at an opportunity to share their passion. "Well... how much do you know already about monster biology?"

You open, then close your mouth, hesitating. After pondering this question, you reply: "Not really much at all, I suppose. That's why I came," you chuckle. 

"Monsters are made of a certain type of energy that manifests itself in physical form. I believe humans know this as magic." You nod in agreement, remembering what G told you. "The source of the energy--our magic--is the core of our being. We call this our soul. And, um, humans also have souls."

This was new. Your mouth opens again, this time in disbelief. "We do?"

"Yes. Depending on the nature of the human soul, there are even different colors associated with different character traits. Of course, humans are typically unable to detect this. But, there is great power associated with human souls, and we monsters have been trying to work with human researchers to combine our magic, monster technology, and human souls to improve everyone's quality of life."

"Dr. Alphys, the applications must be enormous. That's wild! This is the first time I'm hearing about this," you say excitedly. "Do different souls contribute different types of energy? How can you tell what color souls are?"

She pauses, considering. "Some souls have more power than others. That really depends. But your s-second question is easy. Monsters can see soul colors." She smiles shyly. "You have a very pretty soul. But I won't tell you exactly what color it is just yet. "

Warmth creeps up your face. "D-do monsters have different colors too?"

"Oh, kind of. Our magic may show up with different colors but the essence of our soul energies are the same. Some can wield their magic better than others. I'm not the greatest at using magic, but my p-partner is quite efficient." This time it's her turn to blush, turning an even more vivid shade of tangerine at the mention of her significant other. The dinosaur bites back a giggle.

"You know, I'm sorry if I'm overstepping but may I ask you a question?"  
"Of course! Anything at all."  
The doctor squirms bashfully before she speaks. "I, um. Would like to know a little more about human pop culture. It's. Um. It's b-been a while."

Juicy Hollywood gossip? Reality television? It's all Evie loves to indulge in. You think back to when the two of you first started your weekly Bachelor watch sessions. After some initial reluctance on your part, you finally gave in to the schmaltz and premature professions of love.  _Never thought that'd come in handy._ You grin mischievously.

The conversation proceeds smoothly as you both lose some of the initial formality and fall into a pleasant, giddy exchange, you telling her about your favorite actors and artists, showing performances to her on your phone as she tells you about popular DJ Napstablook and television show host Mettaton from Underground. You say that you just heard of them the other day and that they seem to be collaborating with some popular artists on their tours. Before you know it, you've already spent almost an hour in her office giggling and feeling a lot more comfortable than you ever had with other professors. Finally, you start to wrap up the conversation.

"I don't want to keep you, Dr. Alphys, but I have just one more question, if that's alright."

"Of course!"

You wonder if it's a completely unbased question, but you figure it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"It's a bit of a change in subject, but I've heard something about, uh, resets, and I wanted to ask you what you knew about them."

Her horns twitch, and she looks straight at you, holding your gaze inquisitively with a guarded expression completely opposite of what it was moments before. "Resets?" 

Apparently, it did hurt to ask. "I'm sorry if I said something I wasn't supposed to, I'm not even sure what I'm asking about," you stammer, apologizing. "My-"  _What? Friend? Crush? "-_ acquaintance had mentioned something about monsters having to go through resets Underground before coming up to the surface. I was just curious about what those consisted of."

The doctor seems to relax a little, although you swear little beads of sweat have appeared on her forehead. "I can't tell you too much about those, ___. Those aren't known to many monsters, much less humans. It's, uh, something you might want to keep to yourself. Um. I'd tell you more if I could but it's not something I'm knowledgeable about." 

The expression on your face must make Alphys feel a little guilty about her sudden defensiveness, because she adds, "I'd still love to meet with you again to learn more about human customs and culture. Please feel free to drop by my office at any time."

"Sure thing. Of course!" You nod, perhaps a little too vigorously, and reach for your backpack. The sinking feeling you did something wrong, you know something you're not supposed to, weighs heavy in the pit of your stomach. You stand up and flash the professor a smile. "Well Doctor, it's been a pleasure speaking with you today, but I think I have to get going." She stands and proffers a hand which you hurriedly shake, and without looking back, make your way out of her office.

As the door clicks in place and you make your way down the convoluted, tortuous hallway, your mind works busily. Why did the resets seem so taboo? Apparently they weren't known among all monsters. But in that case, why would G know about resets?  _How does G know?_ And why in the world did you dream about it??

Rounding a corner you spot a restroom symbol and pause mid-stride, deciding to quickly duck inside to check on your tattoo.

Sighing, you let your backpack slip off your shoulder onto the tiled floor (one-shoulder hold, to accommodate for the ink), and after checking there's no one else occupying the stalls, lift up the corners of your loose-fitting shirt to expose your midsection. You can't help yourself from smiling, even with the sour way that conversation just ended. It's absolutely gorgeous, even in its unfinished state. G did a marvelous job in laying out the bare bones (ha) in an even black border, and you can't wait to see how the piece will progress in the session coming up in the next couple days. The bony palms cup a space underneath your left breast, close to your heart. He'd been so gentle and professional, you couldn't conjure up any filthy thoughts even if you tried. 

Letting your shirt fall back down, you take a long look at your face, illuminated by the unflattering bathroom fluorescence. "Keep your mind on the important stuff," you finally huff out, reaching down to hoist up your backpack. "Let's go hit the books."

* * *

Back in her office Dr. Alphys sits quietly in front of her desktop screen, contemplating the conversation she just had with you. The more she dwells, the more she can't help fretting, and her small hands fumble nervously with the pieces of paper in front of her. It's not that she meant to intimidate you, she laments, hoping she hadn't scared away what seemed like a sweet little human. The two of you had really hit it off too, she thinks regretfully. It's just that...

 _S-sans_ _had mentioned resets,_ she thinks.  _He mentioned them just once..._ The memory makes her shiver involuntarily. Whispers of sins snake up between her scales. Hopefully that'll be the last time she has to see him like that.

The dinosaur monster starts chewing her lip, nervously considering the options.  _I could tell him about her, or I could pretend none of this happened. It was just crazy chance. It was just crazy chance, right?_ A nervous noise escapes her mouth, and cold sweat continues to bud on her forehead.  _Would he be angry like that again?_

"M-maybe it'd be better I didn't mention anything," she finally says aloud.

"No talk about resets.

None of that happened today.

None of it."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're gonna be laying some groundwork in the next few chapters before G and Reader really hit it off but I promise to keep things tantalizing. I hope. 
> 
> This story definitely took different direction than intended--originally I just wanted a big ball of fluff and warmth--but we got some character development and action/adventure coming up. As always thank you for reading <3


	7. Axis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreamland steamland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader has these dreams conveniently on the weekends.

_The two of you have been quietly gravitating toward each other: a brush of the elbow there, a hand on the knee for a beat too long. He finally drapes his tall frame against you and you lean back into him, resting against a broad, firm chest. Feather light, the tips of his bony fingers begin tracing patterns across the skin of your forearm._

_The silent consent is mutual. The touch continues, going up and down, over your watch, onto the back of your hand, simultaneously tickling and addictive. Deliciously intense licks of pleasure shoot up your arm and coil in the pit of your stomach, and you turn your head away from him, squeezing your eyes shut._

_It's been a long while since you've played this game, danced this tango of lonely souls looking for warmth. Wordlessly you turn your palm upward and he answers by placing the tips of his phalanges in a concentric circle on your palm and then expanding, dragging each finger of his against the insides of yours._

_Everything feels hazy. The world is reduced to nothing but the sensation of his hand barely grazing your skin. The room is dimmed, your friends are minding their own business in the other corner. Alcohol bottles and empty cups are strewn across the table like haphazard decorations. How easy would it be to just turn and kiss this monster?_

_There's still enough reason in your mind to keep from softly moaning at the tender ministrations. You sit there, body alight with want, and simply savor the sensations. What is it? Your mind takes a moment to come up with the word. Ah, yes.  
_

              _Craving. Giddiness from feeling desired. **Hunger.** _

_You hesitantly lace your fingers between his and bring his hand up to your mouth. Ever so slowly you being to kiss his fingertips, egged on by the low rumble of approval from him. You work your way down each finger and get to his palms, only to discover they aren't... there. Unfazed, you work lower, spending a bit of extra time at the carpus, working the flesh of your lips against each bone in the wrist. His hand cradles your cheek as his body shifts, weight suddenly weighing down so you're lying flat on the couch._

_Not missing a beat, his lips press against yours and then you're, kissing, kissing, kissing._ _A thigh wedges between your legs and_ _presses insistently against the heat between them. You break the kiss with a gasp, opening your eyes to the ceiling and--it's not the same ceiling. The background noises have disappeared.  
_

_You push him off urgently and prop yourself on your arms to look around. It wasn't a couch. The two of you are on a bed.  
_

_"My room," he explains, still close to you, already low voice going gravelly. He smiles. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to."_

_You take a good look at the skeleton, at the cracks extending from his eye sockets, the bright glow of his yellow pupils, the way his broad shoulders fill out the clothes on his chest. Something about the monster makes you want to stay. You could die, you think. Going to a stranger's bedroom, via teleport of all things. You breathe deeply.  
_

_"I do. Want to."_

_"Just wanted to make sure," he replies, leaning in. "Because this is practically bursting to come out."_

_He lifts a hand and makes a beckoning motion with his finger, and a green, sparkling light emerges out of your chest, diaphanous and ephemeral. "I've had my eyes on you this entire night," he murmurs, letting it float above his palm. "Since the moment we met."  
_

_The skeleton raises his other hand to caress the light and_ you wake with a shout, sitting up and flinging your blankets to the side. A warm pulsing sensation radiates outward from your chest, and your hand immediately comes up to clutch at your shirt. Your heart pistons so furiously it feels as though it's clattering against the inside of your rib cage.

It takes a shorter time to readjust to your surroundings this time and once you do, an exasperated "Fuck!" comes tumbling out of your lips. It was G. It had to be him. There was no denying it. This dream was just as, if not more vivid, than the last. And the amount of desire between you two was... palpable, to say the least. A direct contrast from the (mostly) professional demeanor you know of him. You grimaced. Whatever that bright light was, it had enhanced your senses.

It was like he was speaking with his hands, the way their lightest touches left you wanton, the way they drew your--soul?--from the recesses of your chest.

 _Humans have souls too,_ you remember Dr. Alphys saying. Could that have been it, or just a dramatization? You chew on the inside of your mouth, considering the options. Could you ask G about it next time? Would he dismiss you? Would he laugh about it? It's not like you had any other monster friends to ask. "So, I had a dream about a magic ball of light that you pulled from my chest..." you say aloud experimentally, regretting it as soon as the words leave your mouth. That was  _not_ to work.

A buzz from your desk interrupts your train of thought. Reaching over, you grab your phone and check the notification.

 

> _Evie: Hey girl! A new bakery cafe has their grand opening nearby. You wanna check it out for breakfast?_
> 
> Smiling at the thought of carbs, you quickly type in a response.
> 
> ____: Yes!!! I'll be free in 30 :)_
> 
> _Evie: Yaaaaas_

Yawning, you get off the bed. It's time to get up and have a productive weekend.

* * *

"How'd you hear about this place?" You ask Evie, humming happily to the radio in the driver's seat. She slows at a red light and chirps, "A few new monsters enrolled into my history class the other day and I overheard them talking about it. Apparently it's monster-owned! Thought it'd be nice to support local businesses."

You raised an eyebrow. "Just supporting local businesses got you up this early?"

She grins as the light turns green and starts up the car again. "Aaaand there's kind of a cutie in my class. I was thinking maybe he'd also show up."

"Okay, okay!" Your voice goes up a few clicks as you whistle at her. "Who's the lucky bastard?"

Before your fireball of a roommate can answer, she pulls into a small plaza dotted with restaurants that you'd been to before--an Indian buffet, pizza chain, ice cream parlor--and nestled in among them you spot the new addition: **Curds &Whey.**

"Is that the one?" You ask, craning your neck as the two of you pull closer. She cruises easily into an empty spot, and turns off the engine. "Yup." Her subdued tone of voice makes you glance over to see her focused on one of the individuals standing in a small crowd gathered in front of the entrance. It's a group of humans and monsters together, perhaps a little more of the latter group, but the socializing warms your heart.

"Hey." You nudge her gently. "Let's go. Introduce me to him, yeah?"

"O-okay," she answers, voice a little shaky.

"You okay?" Used to the confident, flirtatious Evie who pursued whomever she desired, you've never seen this side of her before.

She tucks a few wild curls behind her ear and winks at you. "Of course, babe. No one, not even a monster, can faze me."

The two of you get out the car and shut the doors behind you. As you walk towards the crowd, one of the monsters notices. His pointed grey ears perk up and his face lights up in a smile.

"Evie! You came!" He exclaims, waving to call her over. 

"Hey Doggo! Of course!" Your roommate greets the appropriately named dog monster with one of her most charming smiles, any earlier sign of unease completely wiped from her face. You work your way into the small crowd gathered before the entrance of the bakery and take a moment to admire the adorable window display of croissants and cookies before Evie taps you on the shoulder.

"Doggo, this is my roommate, ___. She's a vet student right now."

 

He extends an anthropomorphic white-furred hand, with neatly trimmed black claws at each fingertip.

"Doggo," he grins. "Nice to meet any friend of Evie's."

You take his hand and internally squeal at how soft and warm it is. Ever the motherly roommate, you give him a thorough once-over, noting that he pulls off the impossible combination of pink muscle tank and spotted mustard yellow pants a lot better than you'd ever expect.

"___. The pleasure's all mine," you reply. He reminds you of a Shiba Inu with the way his dark black fur covers most of his head but changes to white at the muzzle and chest. His bright, dark eyes show nothing but positivity and ingenuity. With an inward nod, you give the seal of approval to this boy.

A jingling noise catches your attention and you all turn your heads to the doors finally opening. An absolutely delicious smell of baked bread and sweet pastries comes wafting out of the interior, and your mouth starts watering for a taste.

A petite spider lady stands at the entrance. "Hello, she says demurely. Welcome to the grand opening of Curds and Whey. You can call me Muffet. Please welcome in!"

The crowd slowly starts to go inside, grabbing trays and tongs and excitedly chattering about the all the options to choose from. "Muffet!" Doggo barks out, walking toward her and giving her a hug. She makes a small hiss of discomfort, but gingerly returns the embrace with a few of her thin lanky arms. You hadn't noticed it before, but you now see a curious pattern on Doggo's shoulder. It's an inverted triangle with rounded corners. Smaller triangles line the bottom and a circle with wings stands in the center. The design stands out starkly against his white coat.

"Let's go, ___! Those eclairs over there are already running out!" Evie drags you towards the pastries section by the elbow and you turn away from the dog and spider, thinking to ask him about the mark afterwards. After lots of fussing and difficulty deciding you eventually make your way to the register, with many more pastries piled atop your tray than social convention allows ("We can just give them away later!")

As the cashier rings up your total at the counter, you hear a voice to your left, next to Evie. "Looks like you're going to be feasting this morning," Doggo comments as he sidles up next to her, tail wagging lazily. You catch the way her eyes bug out the slightest bit being caught unaware before she turns to him. You pull out your card to pay and listen in on their conversation.

"We wanted to try all of them," she giggles. "Feel free to share! We're probably gonna sit down and eat some before we leave."

"Sounds good, thanks," he ruffs. "I can chip in too! Muffet's always getting on my case about not paying her back for the cake's I've gotten from her Underground." You cast a quick glance around the bakery but can't see the spider lady; you figure she's disappeared into the back for more baking.

"So you've known each other for a while?" Evie asks, grabbing the tray after the cashier hands the receipt back to you. The three of you walk towards a table by the window and sit on the plush chairs surrounding it.

"Yeah! I stood sentry at one of the posts near where she set up shop. On breaks I'd always try to visit and get some goodies." The canine monster chuckles and reaches for a croissant so that the pattern on his arm is in full view in front of you again.

"Sentry?" She leans in to him just slightly, tilting her head while nibbling the edge of an eclair.

"I used to work for the Royal Guard. Same as the military for humans, from what I understand." He takes a big bite of the croissant and munches happily, muzzle coated with flaky bits.

"By the way, that's a cool pattern on your arm," You try to comment off-handedly.

"Oh! This?" His chest puffs up a bit with pride. "This design is the crest of the King and Queen. We call it the Delta Rune." 

You try not to stare but can't help but admire the crest and the strange way it seems to show clearly through his fur. 

"How did you..." You gesture to your own shoulder. "Fur?"

"Magic," he says, answering your poorly phrased question. "Got it from a pretty good artist Underground."

"How does a magic tattoo work?"

Doggo finishes his croissant and reaches for a pig-in-a-blanket bun next, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. "I guess it's a mixture of ink and magic. Not too sure m'self, to be honest with you."

 "___ is in the middle of getting a tattoo," Evie chirps. 

"Oh yeah?" Doggo's white eyebrows go up and waggle in her direction, and his tongue darts out and quickly laps up the crumbs around his mouth. "What is it, __? And are you gonna get one too?" He directs the second question at her.

Your roommate answers a beat late, probably thrown off by the sight of his tongue. "M-me? No, probably not. __, tell him about your tat!"

You finish the last bit of your flaky potato pastry and say, "Bony skeleton arms. Doesn't sound as cool when I describe them that way though."

"No, not at all! Every tattoo is meaningful, even if they happen spur-of-the-moment." Doggo smiles at the two of you as his ears twitch happily. You wonder if he controls them consciously or if they move without him realizing it.

You let Evie take over the rest of the conversation and only add in occasional input, trying to be the best wing woman you can. The dog monster and your roommate get along pleasantly--he's friendly but not too friendly, and keeps things interesting for you too as the (kind of) third wheel. Eventually the number of pastries dwindle down and the two of you have to duck out and continue the rest of the day, but promise to meet up with Doggo again soon.

As you're on the way back home, Evie gushes. "What do you think?" 

"He's quite the looker," you respond. "Or should I say...  _woof-_ er?"

She rolls her eyes. "Hurry up and go bone your tattoo boy already."

"Hey, hey! No need to get defensive now," you chuckle, whacking her shoulder playfully. "He's nice. I get good vibes from him."

Evie retracts her exaggerated pout and smiles. "Good vibes?"

"Good vibes."

She starts to hum again and you turn to your own thoughts, stomach flipping nervously at the thought of your next appointment with the skeleton just a few days away.  _Just gotta act normal. I can do this. I can do this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot gets flaky with pastries~


	8. Sternum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Session dos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of the country at the moment so chapter updates will probably be a little more irregular but please bear with me! As always, thank you for reading~

"Princess? ___?"

You jerk out of your daze. "Oh! I'm sorry, G. What were you saying?"  
He chuckles, hand ever-steadily moving the pen across your skin. "Something on your mind? You're not even flinching with the needle anymore."

You flush and try to come up with a reasonable answer to his question.  _I saw a glimmer of gold at the club and thought it was you. And then I dreamed about you afterwards and we kissed. You teleported me to your room and we maybe did the nasty?  
_

Good stars and heavens above. The flash of gold at the club was definitely a hallucination. On top of that, you're too embarrassed about the dreams you've had to even mention them as a joke.

You'd rehearsed this before coming into the shop today--you weren't going to let these moments bother you. A grown ass woman who doesn't spent time over-analyzing and crushing on  ~~your~~  a hot skeleton man like a tween. And yet here you are, struggling with your words as your worries are painted onto your face. Distractedly, you change the subject.

"I was just wondering."  
"Mm-hmm?" G draws out the end of the syllable, rumbling baritone in your ears.  
You pause from your train of thought. He's in way too good of a mood today.  
"You seem to be happy about something."  
"Oh yeah?"  
You lift your head up as far as it will go to shoot him a look. He's got an impossibly innocent smirk on his face.  
"Not gonna share?"  
"Hm..." He casts a glance your way. "No."  
You lie your head back down with a grumble. "Suit yourself."

A few seconds pass before he speaks again: "What was it you were wondering?"  
"Oh." You'd forgotten. "Is it possible to mix magic with your ink?" The thought had crossed your mind the other day after meeting Doggo at the bakery, and you wanted to see if it was possible to use magic ink in humans.

The skeleton straightens up and sits back for a moment, clicking off the pen, then scoots his rolling stool over to look down at you eye-to-eye. The loose black shirt he's wearing today reveals quite a bit of collarbone, and a thin gold chain dangles from his neck. Your eyes linger on the link nestled between the vertebrae before he quietly clears his throat.

"Eyes up here, doll," he murmurs, winking. Before you can interject, he continues, "Magic ink is something I use with monster clients. Holds up to different skin types a lot better than just plain ink."

"Would it be possible to hypothetically... use it in a human tattoo?"  
His brow bones go up. "You want me to give you a magical tattoo?"  
"I didn't say it was for me, but if you insist--"  
"You want me to give you a magical tattoo." This time it's a statement. "I mean, it's definitely possible." He leans back thoughtfully. "Haven't tried on a human before though."

You scoff at the way he leapt to conclusions. It wasn't something you'd committed to before walking into the session today, but with the way things were going, you might as well commit. That and, well, you wanted to be the first. The first human he tattooed with magic.

"You might as well get the bang out of your guinea pig buck right here," you say while rolling your eyes, hesitating while you add: "Shouldn't have any dangerous side effects should it?"

The skeleton cocks his head as the corner of his mouth twitches upward, eyes glowing excitedly in the way artists' eyes always do when faced with new potential.

"Well, it won't hurt ya, that's for sure. Other humans probably wouldn't even be able to tell. Monsters, on the other hand..." His voice slows to a vocal fry. "Might be curious." His voice drops a couple notes and he rumbles, "Monsters can see magic, y'know. And last time I checked, humans aren't supposed to be able to use any." 

The change in tone does nothing to help your heart. At this point it might as well pop out of your chest and flop onto the floor. Not pausing to think about the implications, you reply, "Out of sight, out of mind. If I can't see it, does it matter?"

* * *

G was over the moon when you walked into the tattoo shop early this morning, soul glowing nervously yet brighter than ever before. He'd had some pleasant dreams of his own a couple evenings ago, and was lounging at one of the empty seats at the front of the shop, waiting for you to arrive. To be very honest he'd regretted not accepting your invitation a couple weeks back, but whatever lingering thoughts he had were pushed aside as you walked up to the counter with a blush dusting your cheeks.

"Ready for round two?" He says, getting up off the chair and extending his hand. This time you take it without hesitation, squeezing warmly through the leather of the glove.

"Yeah," you say a little breathlessly, emerald green soul sparkling so brightly within your chest today it's all he can do to not reach out and press you to him. 

But then all he gives you is a closed-mouth smile and a head nod to the same little private room. It's obvious something had happened in the past few days to make you this way, but he decides to keep the questions to himself and instead see what some good-natured teasing can get out of you.

The session proceeds as anticipated, until you suddenly make a request for magic to be imbued into the design. 

G hesitates, eyes shimmering but going so far as to put down the tattoo pen back on the table. He warns you about how the tattoo might make other monsters either very curious, or very suspicious, but then you counter by saying that if you wouldn't be able to tell the difference, it wouldn't matter. The thought of being able to etch _your_ skin with _his_ magic does certain things to his ego, drives him up the wall (or rather, makes him want to do you against the wall).

It was already a lot of self control having to deal with your topless self, soft unblemished skin marked black and reddened by the pen. His pen. And _stars_ how your soul swelled rather than shrank when it came to the more sensitive spots on your body, the way your breath stuttered in a way that straddled the boundary between pain and pleasure, the hours he'd wasted outside of work thinking of the things he could do to make you _squirm._

"G?" Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts, brows knitted together in an expression of worry. "If you don't feel confident with it, it's no worries. I was just curious."

There you go again, afraid you've pushed too far. Inhibiting yourself at the expense of others' feelings. He recognizes the lilt of curiosity in your voice, a guarded recklessness ready to draw back or charge forward with just the right amount of coaxing.

Clearing his voice, he replies, "I can do it. But you're really sure about this?" He finally rasps. "Just freehand it into the design right now?" It's one last out he hopes you'll take. Please, because he's not sure what he'll do if--  
"I'm sure. One shot canvas, right?"

And with that, he feels the last of his reservations crumble into pieces. A crooked grin begins to spread across his face from the corners of his mouth as he echoes, "One shot canvas."

* * *

The skeleton leans in, smooth surface of his lips barely against your ear. The proximity sets off alarms distantly in your mind but then one bony hand gently grasps your hip to keep you from jerking backwards."It's a secret between the both of us. Deal?" The husky tone of his voice sends shivers spearing down your spine. Thank goodness you're wearing sneakers today because you'd be mortified if he could see the way your toes are curling.

At first you can't even reply. It's only when he squeezes a little on your hip that you stutter out a, "D-deal."

G chuckles, and you swear you'd be willing to give a part of you away to condemnation if only you could hear that for the rest of your life. He leans back and rolls away, grasping the tattoo pen deftly and resuming work on your midsection.

"It might feel a little different from here on out, so let me know if you ever feel uncomfortable," he addresses you over the buzz.  
"Will do," you answer in response.

Sure enough, the pain from the nib seems to lessen, and an almost pleasant, tingling feeling overtakes the prickles.  
"It feels nice," you sigh. The skeleton laughs through his nose lightly but doesn't day anything in response.

The rest of the session goes off without any hitches, conversation a bit lacking compared to the first session, but the cooling sensation from the magic (you assume) making things a lot more relaxing. He finally turns off the pen at the end of the next hour and clears his throat.

"We're good for today, ___. Thanks for handling that so well. Go ahead and get dressed, and I'll meet you up front."

He clicks the door behind him gently, and you sit up with a groan. Even with the magic, staying in the same position for a couple hours was pretty taxing. As you stretch your arms out, you take a peek in the mirror on the opposite wall.

The piece grew in depth and dimension since the last session but, as G explained, it doesn't look like there's anything different with a typical black and white tatt. He's added more of those beautiful flowers this session and started to add detail to the bones, darkening the perfectly round holes in the palms. It's admittedly still a little disappointing, you think to yourself. Boring human eyes that can't see magic. You take a couple more seconds to admire the ink, then quickly get dressed and leave the room to go to the counter.

"It looks like we have just one more session together. Thanks for being such a champ today," he smiles while handing your card back to you. "Oh! Almost forgot."

He disappears momentarily, and appears with a small business card tucked between his long phalanges. With a flourish he takes your hand a gently puts it in your palm. "Should have given this to ya earlier but the shop hadn't made them yet. If you have any questions about tattoo care." He winks. "I'll see you again in a couple weeks, lovely."

You flush at the unexpected attention and you manage a small smile before turning around and closing the door behind you. Walking back to your car, you examine the little card, eyes widening.

There’s an additional number on the back, scrawled in golden ink. You stare at it.

_Did he just give me his personal number?_


	9. Ilium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares and girl talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the radio silence guys! Forgive me for the shorter chapter but the ball's really gonna start rolling from here on out. Gonna try to post more regularly from now on.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Non-consensual physical contact. Nothing to the level of rape, but just in case.

"Hey, it'll be okay." Evie's warm, soft, soothing voice murmurs into your ear as she pats and rubs your back reassuringly. "I know you've been going through shit lately, but you know what? You've done it before and come out stronger because of it. Nothing's going to be any different this time around."

It had been a couple weeks since your last encounter with G and you hadn't had much time to admire his handiwork nor take care of the tattoo as well as you'd like. In short, life was _handing it to you._ School was _hard._ And the worst part? You were the main cause of your own misery--high achiever with a flaming case of inferiority complex always spelled trouble--and although you've been improving throughout the years, anxiety would always occasionally rear its ugly head.

"It hasn't happened like this in a while," you sniffle tearfully as you lean over onto her shoulder where you were cuddling on the couch. "The main trigger is honestly just not resting and getting enough sleep. But every time I close my eyes, it's the same stupid nightmare, over and over again. I can't focus, I'm letting my professors down, my classmates are worried for me. And I don't know what to do about it."

"Hey, I don't mean to jump to this option but I know you've already attempted a lot of things. Have you taken any sleeping pills?"

"No, not yet..." You hesitate. The idea of having to take medications made you a little uncomfortable. Time and time again you told yourself you wouldn't put yourself into situations like this, and yet the inexplicable images that kept surfacing in your dreams made you wonder if it was time to go to the doctor.

"___." Evie interrupts your thoughts, hand moving from your back to gently smoothing out your hair. "Going to a doctor and talking to them about your dreams will probably help a lot more than you think. You've done everything in your own power, and it's okay to ask someone else for input. They won't think you're weak."

A pensive silence settles between the two of you as you sit there, brewing in your own conflicted emotions. Pride, fear of judgment, apprehensive hope. Stubbornly refusing to open up to others (and yourself, actually) about the insecurities you've buried so deeply.

Evie finally breaks the ice: "If it's alright, can I ask what's in your dreams? Of course, you don't have to talk about them. But I often find that it helps me when I mention what's in them." You sigh through your nose and adjust yourself so you're sitting upright. Your roommate is looking at your with her big, caring eyes but you can't bring yourself to meet them.

"Flowers," you mutter. "Lots of glowing, blue flowers in a dark, dark room." The image itself starts to make you nervous, and you feel your heartbeat quicken in your chest.

"A room?"

"Well, I'm not sure if it's a room. Maybe's it's outside. But it's literally so dark that all I can see are these flowers, lighting a path in front of me. And the sound of water."

"That doesn't sound too bad. What happens next?"

"I go down the path. And I swear I'm hearing voices, but there's no one nearby." You can remember the phrases clear as day, as if they were spoken from the flowers themselves:  _Beware the man who speaks in hands._ But you decide to keep that detail to yourself. "It feels like someone's watching me, but I know if I turn around I won't see anything. So I just keep walking.

"I don't really remember all of the dream. I don't know if it's all the same dream. But there are always those flowers, so I guess it is?" You ramble on," I end up walking down this dark path for what feels like ages. Sometimes it's deathly cold like I'm in the middle of Antarctica, and others I feel like I'm going to melt my face off. The sensations are unlike anything I've ever had before in a dream. But at the end I always come to the same place."

"Which is?" Evie coaxes as your stomach twists and drops.

"A dead end." By this time cold sweat is covering your forehead. "There's one last flower in front of me. And it says, _Don't look back."_

Tears start to overflow from your eyes as you continue, voice cracking. "So I don't. I just stand here knowing that someone is behind me and that they've been _following me_ the entire time." Evie moves to hug you as if that were the end but you continue tersely. "And then the hands appear. Pairs of floating, skeletal hands, with these... these _holes_ carved out of the palms. They _touch_ me," you spat out, anger and fear bleeding profusely into your voice. "And it feels like they're taking me apart. Not physically, but... emotionally. Like they're draining out the life from me. The will to live. And I wake up so drained of... determination. _Everything._ "

"Oh, ___, it's all just a dream darling." Your friend reaches out her arms and wraps you up in a tight hug. "I'm sorry I made you talk about it," she coos as you tremble with the effort to hold back your sobs. You can't help but wonder if the tattoo was a bad idea. Meeting G. Having him incorporate magic into your ink.

His art was honestly one of the most mesmerizing and unique things you'd ever seen, but with the advent of these nightmares having it on your flesh felt like physical manifestation of a death sentence. You'd toyed around with the idea of calling G and telling him about the dreams, but you figured it might cause him undue stress and guilt over something that definitely wasn't his fault.

"How long have you been having these dreams, hun? About two weeks, right?" She leans forward to snatch a couple tissues from the box on the coffee table in front of you, and dabs your face as you nod, finally getting ahold of your nerves.

"There. You got this. I'll make us some mac and cheese and we'll put on a movie, and you can sleep in my room with me tonight. My bed is big enough for the both of us." Evie flashes her biggest, warmest grin at you and hops off the couch, scurrying to the kitchen.

You hear her open the box of Kraft and pour it into a pot, little squiggly noodles clinking as they hit the metal. She hums a tuneless melody as she turns on the stove and within the next ten minutes the two of you are digging into steaming bowls of nostalgic yellow goodness. With each bite you feel hope and optimism grow in your chest until it suffuses your heart and body.

"E," you murmur between mouthfuls.

"Yeah?" She replies.

"...thank you."


	10. Ischium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wooooo the ball is rollinggggg. What a colorful world, eh?

"Mm..." You open your eyes to sunlight gently peeking in from behind the blinds. Rolling over and stretching, you glance at the clock to check what time it is. _9:34._ You blink, mind still clearing itself from the fog of sleep but also incredulous at the same time. "Wha--"

"Hey chica," a voice calls from the doorway. You glance over to see your roommate, still clad in pajamas, rubbing her eyes with a smile. "How'd you sleep?" She cocks her hips and leans against the frame, Hello Kitty pattern on her t-shirt winking at you cheekily. You yawn as you prop yourself up by the elbow, half covering your mouth for decency's sake.

"Really well, actually," you reply, letting out the breath you hadn't realized you were holding. "First night in a while I've woken up rejuvenated." No nightmares, no ghostly hands, no glowing wildflowers in the darkness. Nothing about G either. Just... recovery. It was surprising how much of a difference it made, not having those draining encounters. The wonders of friendship and a good bowl of mac, you think to yourself as you sit up properly.

"Good." Evie takes a couple steps forward to you and sits on the corner of the bed, long back hair almost touching the mattress as she takes a seat. "I made some breakfast, so get washed up and come join me in the kitchen!"

"Thank you mom," you drawl out happily, giving her your best bleary morning smile. Some light scents of bacon and sweetness start to make their way into the bedroom, and you inhale deeply as you shift the blankets to the side and step down onto the carpet flooring. Evie leaves the room to go back to cooking, and you pad your way into the bathroom to do the morning duties.

Peering in the mirror at your reflection, you note that the dark circles under your eyes are a little bit lighter and make a grunt of approval. Mechanically you grab your toothbrush, squirt out the usual strip of white Colgate, and get to the routine. It's in the middle of your ritual pee that you hear a shrill scream from the kitchen.

"Evie!" You yell out, scrambling to wipe and flush and drag your pajama shorts back up your hips and stumble out of the room into the kitchen. "Evie, what's wrong?!--"

You assess the scene in the kitchen--some scrambled eggs, pancakes, and bacon are plated on the counter, if not haphazardly. The vent is on, the sink is clean, the cabinets are closed--and your roommate is on the opposite side of the living room (connected to the kitchen) perched on the couch, stiff and alert and clutching a spatula in her hands as if her life depended on it.

"E?" You prompt again, wondering why your bladder had to suffer the consequences of being cut off mid-stream for what looked like a normal situation. She doesn't shift from her position, tense and coiled like a nervous viper, darting gaze focused intensely behind your shoulder.

"It was a cockroach!" She finally splutters. Her eyes are as wide as can be.

"E, you've killed cockroaches before," you sigh. It's far too early in the day for this type of drama to be happening. "Let me know if you see it again and I'll come out and kill it for you. They're really not a big deal, E." You turn around to head back to the bathroom as she justifies her actions.

"This was a big one!!" Her shifting eyes bug out slightly as she seems to zone in on a spot behind you in the kitchen.

"There!" She hisses quietly. Her upper lip curls in the same way a cat's hackles raise before it goes in for the kill. Quietly, stealthily, she steps down from the couch. You stand wordlessly, far from the to-be crime scene as she gingerly reaches for a house slipper and creeps her way towards the clueless bug. You can't exactly see the roach, but to be fair it was quite a large one. It scampered across the lower cabinets, between the cracks of the doors and underneath the edge of the drawers with erratic pauses, antennae twitching energetically. You raise an eyebrow and take a step back as Evie creeps around you, hunched over and tip-toeing as if the cockroach wouldn't be able to sense her approach with a Swiper the Fox impression.

"It's gonna be a hard kill. Not really on any flat surfaces for good contact--"  
" ** _Sh!_** " She snaps. Her free hand waves backwards at me to demand silence. An assassin works in the absence of sound, after all. The tension builds in the kitchen as the cockroach continues to meander. It darts into the crack between the countertop and the fridge and you think that it's a lost cause until it suddenly emerges to make a straight beeline for your breakfast plates. You almost act on impulse to defend your food, but Evie knows what she's doing.

Something strange then happens in the moment her arm comes down on the victim. It's not the resounding  _smack_ that sounds loudly off the kitchen walls, or the way Evie herself lets out a squeak of discomfort as the bottom of the slipper contacts the bug. You blink, and rub your eyes, and rub them even harder as what you see doesn't go away.

You don't have time to adjust the expression on your face when she turns around.

Red. Her chest is glowing red.


End file.
